Smartassery for the serious. Assistance for the terrifed. Information for the curious. A memoir for what's left of my sanity.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Sixteenth Post.

I know what it feels like to be watched, to be stalked. I know when someone is staring at me without even seeing them. I know what direction they are usually coming from, I can practically hear them breathing despite the distance. When I look at them I see distress a majority of the time, that's right, caught you. They look away, two seconds tops, before glancing back. Guess what? I'm looking at you now. But you know what? I'm not looking away. Don't catch a predator's attention, learn to be subtle even when stalking with your gaze. Your body language gives away more than you initially think. Go ahead, pretend like it never happened. Go back to talking with your friends, act like I never existed. I'm smiling on the inside, amused by your ignorance. It is fine, I'll let it slide because I'm not a monster anymore. Just an ex.

I like watching people. I like catching them by surprise, purposely shedding from invisibility to catch their attention before just disappearing. People are silly and frustrating all at once. I like making up little stories for them, especially people I will be meeting. Seeing them from across the room waiting to be approached for the inevitable introduction, I'll stand around and spin a tale about who they are. I think it keeps me from getting bored with people up until I've discovered all I need to about them. That is a problem I have, that I have always had. It is something my family doesn't understand not enjoy about me, not unless they need me to use it and give them advice. This problem, or "problem" I should say, is observing. It doesn't sound like much, I know, but it is more than people realize. I used to meet my sibling's "love" interest, handshake, introduction, not five minutes upon meeting them I would have accurately mapped out their persona. Instant dislike on... Oh... 99% of them back then. Dumbasses. Still sounds like not much, right? What about knowing, as a child, the exact ways your relatives would behave/react/transition through an evening grouped together? I used to sit on the sidelines and just watch. It was as if I was watching a game of chess, how they would all move into place. I watched them dance to their own personal rhythem. No one ever saw that smile that curled, it was always gone within a blink of an eye.

Some people are going to say I am not a monster. You are correct, I am not, not anymore. When I was little I was... Unusual. It was a friendly unusual, mostly indifferent. I told you I defended the few things I valued then, that is true. But to people, I mean, I was not a nice person. I think it was out of curiosity, why I seeing people more clearly than how they saw themselves. I didn't trust people, I was paranoid even then, in those young years I didn't know how to cope with it as well. I either swallowed the anxiety or put up a thicker wall. I worked people, lightly at first, just to see their reactions. I liked to think I could see past the flesh and bone and watch their brain fire away, figuring out how to respond. It contributes much to how I enjoy watching others go through the process of creating a story, weaving a tale. Doing online editor work is enjoyable for exploring the depths of others imaginations. I always liked that.

I remember... I remember in third grade, it's vague, but I remember meeting a girl. We disliked one another due to her misunderstanding something I was saying to another that had nothing to do with her. Tch. She got me in trouble because of it, silly thing, got herself in trouble that same day. We both had recess detention, bonded then sort of. I decided she'd become the first experiment. I induldged myself in figuring out her ties within that school, then promptly severed them. I watched the reaction of the children involved and found I was not enjoying it. I did not enjoy the idea of betrayal, and so I repaired the ties that were broken. The two girls became friends, and to my surprise wished my presence to be the third. I distanced, but acknowledged their desires to befriend. It seemed that my effort to befriend the two was pointless, to this ex. experiment I had my own gravity and it drew her in. I did what I could to keep these two as friends but it was ultimately useless. I corrupted a person in the third grade, fully aware of what I was doing. She stuck by my side through-out most of my years, to this day, despite the distance (figuratively) she still comes back.

That is one memory I have been able to keep over these years. Ironic, isn't it, that one of the few childhood memories I have is one of negativity, even if it is only partially.

Since I could I've always played soccer, well, up until a few years ago at least. I always had two positions every year, minus one season. Defender, usually middle, or mid-field. On aggressive days I was in the field, believe it or not but female rec. soccer get rather violent, especially down the line in years. I still have scars. Course', that could just be from the state I live in as well, heh. Anyways, I took the field because of the running, weaving in and out of other players. Moving around constantly while keeping visual of a single black and white speckled object. Breaking through the defenders on aggressive days was fun at every age, I'd like to hang out at the field alone running plays through my head on how to surprise that team next time. Rotating tactics. On calmer days I was a defender, watching for the direction the opponent would be coming from. Looking ahead at where they would go, who they would pass to. I was nicknamed "The Great Wall of China" from the constant blocking, it was amusing. But I never understood why my fellow defenders never tracked the opponents as easily.

I spent a lot of time speed skating as well, despite being too cheap to buy the proper skates. I'd playfully match up to actually team members and challenge them. I lost a few times, other times I was waiting for them to finish. I rejected the invitation to join the team, mostly due to the majority of them treating their team like a clique. I'd spend nights just going around in circles, everything would blur into a whirlwind of colors. I'd have to select specific targets to avoid. Mind you, at this time I was not playing videogames of any sort, that wasn't until later on in my school years. But I did feel like I was in an arcade game at times, with all the bright colors. It was fun, going in circles, useful minor dodging techniques, tuned my balance, helped with endurance and speed. Worked well for soccer. Didn't do as much for basketball minus the endurance. Helped with chasing down neighborhood kids when they needed someone else to play with, though. Footbal, Man Hunt, the latter being a definite favorite.

In all these things I was able to keep track of where to look, what to target. I knew when someone was trying to get my attention the moment they set their eyes upon me. Vibes. It's always been these fucking vibes. I despise going out into public and feeling like my senses are being tugged in every direction. Going invisible works, but it doesn't always help when you're with someone else that acknowledges your presence despite it. During my years I consider myself to be vulnerable within, more-so due to my emotional state, partially my mental as well, despite having my shields raised to the max (as in, immediate family members could not even make contact). It just got worse. Reflecting back on what I remember during that time, as well as what my sibling tells me, I am surprised I wasn't put into a facility. It wasn't the sort of crazy people are used to, the random and erratic behavior. It was, apparently, talking to myself, shutting myself down when with others (I assume to avoid the vibes now), fiddling with my hands, little twitches. I still carry those traits even now, when my brain goes into overdrive mode, when I am pressured or trying to figure out something I need to asap (did I ever mention I despise time limits?). Talk really fast to no one, play with my hands, least the twitching doesn't go on anymore. I don't remember much of it, don't want to. I didn't bother with mind fuckery during that time, except to trick people to just leave me the hell alone.

If there is one thing that still bothers me to this day it is the vibes, knowing when I am being watched. I don't enjoy being watched, which is hypocritical of me but hey, we're all hypocrites. Get over it. Going to tell me your not? Don't bother, I won't believe you, you're just lying to yourself and I won't deal with that. People lie, people say a lot of shit. I bring this up because I feel like I am being watched. Not because of Bad Man Walking, who I mentioned in my previous post. I was running around my house today, testing out some stuff. What is really weird is that first my knife goes missing, now objects are being moved around. I brought down the vaccum cleaner and went over what was visible of my floor briefly. Put the parts away, everything. I came into my room and found a part of the vaccum cleaner I just put away there not even a half out later, just sitting on my bed. The costers on the coffee table I had scrambled up earlier were sitting neatly in a row. I ran over what I did in my head numerous times, nothing matched up. Nothing. This bothers me because despite feeling watched I wasn't feeling it so much today. Yet things were getting moved around when I was the only person home. I sat on my bed and yelled "what the fuck?!" through the house when I realized it. Wanted to smack myself for not noticing this shit earlier.

I'd like to think that I am a smart person, that maybe I just forgot I moved this stuff. Because you know, I apparently forget a lot of shit. Broken body, broken mind. Makes me wonder how the hell I am still useful. Is this last shred of sanity what keep me separate from them within the facilities? Maybe, maybe not. Recovering monster who doesn't even know most of the wretched things she did anymore, sounds like some cheesy story, heh.

Honestly, when I'm not helping everyone I'm watching my own reflection. Waiting for the mirror to just crack or the image I am seeing to do something opposite of myself. I can understand being paranoid about the world, other people... But how bad is the paranoia when you're worried about your own self? When your mind starts working against you. I think it's the stress, the lack of sleep. Something of that source. My mind is over worked, probably, after a few recent discoveries. Probably just raising my stress level trying to sort and organize the stuff in my own head.

Which just makes this post another ramble.

Way over-due information will be posted shortly. My archive day got screwed over, big surprise. Not much news from Mr. Sunshine, it's odd. I am wondering if Bad Man Walking scared him off. I guess we'll see once that douche is taken care of. I haven't see anyone new, so this feeling of being watched currently has no explanation other than paranoia. Yet there isn't much to be paranoid of in my own territory, per-say. I do not like this. Whatever it is I wish it would just confront me already or just go away, it's tiresome.

I keep seeing certain people, same faces from previous blog mentionings. I never see it personally in my dream, but in the observer mode I do see Him etched into the background during certain parts. Never doing anything. Looks like wallpaper at times just standing there. Just standing... There.

I'm buying a new knife in the meantime, untill the other one is given back. Because it's not lost. I'm not that careless.

I don't care about the mistakes in this blog. I'm honestly just too tired (not just literally) to give a fuck about correcting them right now.

I'm just going to go, I feel like I'm just wasting my breath continuing this.

3 comments:

And you know the time I had of it in school because of my empathy. We're like two peas in a pod.

I suppose if my parents hadn't royally F'd me up when I was still practically preverbal, I might have done many things that you did. Instead, mistrust was instilled in me from a young age and I withdrew from everyone. I never could make "friends" in school, and as you know, I was ashamed of my gifts for years. I still keep a barrier between me and others because they fill me with horror... so dishonest, so self-serving, so undeserving of my compassion. But I still give it because everyone can change. Today's monster could be tomorrow's savior. Anyone can find new lessons in yesterday's trauma if they're willing to go back and reexamine it.

I doubt vibes count as being an Empath, last time I checked, at least. Blah. Me being able to read people later on in middle school would have made sense, but doing it as a brat? Like, third grade? That's just... I don't know. I should be asleep. I just can't. Starting to regret not laying down now. I'm off topic.

Maybe it's because you just said "F'd", closest I've ever heard. XD

Still have to keep looking back further, not good enough yet. Not fixed. Never going to be perfect, good, hate perfection, just want to be a little closer to being whole. I'll... Consider the Empathy more thoroughly. I'll sit down and process it and let you know the results.